What do you like better…Christmas or Wedding Season?

So my last post was about how I was bridesmaiding it up in a billion weddings this summer/fall, and how I was a little bit worried about how I was going to handle all of the dress fittings/bridal showers/bachelorette parties…turns out I was right to worry.

This summer was the single most exhausting/awesome/terrible/crazy/sweet/genius/insane/neat/evil thing ever.  I had so much fun seeing all of my friends every weekend.  I cried on more than a few occasions when I checked my account balances on my checking/savings/credit cards.  I have awesome pictures and amazing memories from my nights out on the town.  I have done irreversible damage to my liver.  I didn’t spend any time alone, always surrounded by people.  Oh, and I never got to spend any freaking time alone, unless you count driving back from Chicago, slowly dying from dehydration and lack of electrolytes.  I decided to take a moment and think back on the past few months, and think about the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The good: 
Getting to see the looks on my friend’s face as they married their best friend.  Very cool, totally emotional to watch, and super inspiring.

Shannon’s bridesmaid dress!  The dress was super fitted at the natural waist, sweetheart cut, and LONG!  I got to wear low, not all that attractive shoes, and nobody saw or judged me.  I didn’t have to sit like a lady.  I got to juke on the dance floor like a mother effing champion.  In the battle of bridesmaid dresses, we had a clear winner.  (I liked the other ones just fine, but as a person who rarely wears dresses, I have to give my vote to the long one that allowed me to be the most comfortable!)

Bachelorette parties!  I really should have bought stock in penis-straw companies before the summer began.  I would have made a FORTUNE.

Seeing my friends EVERY weekend!  A large percentage of my friends live at least 2-5 hours away from me, so getting to see them nearly every weekend was an amazing bonus 🙂  Oh and when we’d go to say goodbye when it was time for me to leave, we’d just give a casual hug and say “See you next weekend!”  Far superior to the usual situation.

St. Simon’s Island.  I completely fell in love with this part of Georgia and will DEFINITELY be going back.  Oh, and turns out I really enjoy sweet tea 🙂

The Bad:

Strapless bras/spanx.  I don’t think I need to say any more.

My wallet. I open my wallet and either one of two things happens.  Either moths fly out of the section that SHOULD hold my cash, or my debit/credit cards are super over-heated from being swiped all the time, and I burn my hands when trying to grab them.

Feeling like I couldn’t give 100% to each of my brides this summer.  I had so many events to juggle that I often felt I was letting people down by not making it to everyone’s festivities.  I even had to miss a few good friend’s weddings because I wasn’t able to make it work with my schedule or with my financial situation.  😦  That was SUCH a bummer!

The Ugly:

My freaking tan lines.  I got ONE sunburn in early June.  Got some unfortunate tan lines on my shoulders while watching a fabulous parade with no sunscreen.  Well, you’d think that going tanning 1-3 times a week for a few months might be sufficient in evening out those lines.  Well, you’d be wrong.  I have those mother effing tan lines in EVERY wedding photo.  Brides, I’m sorry.  I tried.  (and I was way too scurrd to get a spray-on tan, for fear of a tanning salon attendant getting to see me nekkid, or going into a machine and pulling a Ross Geller.)

My car: I have discarded bags of chips, empty water bottles, a STUPID amount of mileage on my odometer, and lots of random debris hanging out on the floorboards.  I insisted that a friend of mine borrow my car for a quick trip to the grocery store, and lost a mirror in the process. (That’s what I get for peer pressuring people…just say NO, kids!  Oh and Nat, I still love you.  So does Cami.)

Really, I had an amazing summer, but must admit I’m totally glad that wedding season is FINALLY over.  I am also so excited that my sexy friend Laura is getting married in the Spring, so I will be all refreshed and ready for round 2 of wedding shenanigans.  Now if you’ll excuse me, time to call my stock broker.  Gotta buy some shares in “Peen-Straws-for-U.com”

Always always always always a Bridesmaid

Yes, I haven’t blogged in ages, I’m aware.  When you try to balance a full time job with a collegiate coaching position while going to graduate school, then you’ll be allowed to give me crap.  Until then you’ll take the blissful silence from my snarky comments and LIKE IT!

So, since the dance team is on a break until August and I FINISHED SCHOOL (!!!!) I am fully capable of getting back to a regular posting habit.  I haven’t told you guys about Italy!  Instead of doing a full blog about every aspect of the trip I’ll just share with you certain ridiculous stories that I find particularly entertaining.

What I’d like to talk about today are weddings.  Namely, my friends’ weddings that are coming up in the next 12 months.  I have been blessed with an amazing, wonderful, super-hot group of friends who naturally found amazing, wonderful, super-hot guys to marry, so 2011-2012 is turning into the year of weddings for me.

Exciting stuff, right?!  Open bars!  Pretty dresses!  Chicken dancing! Penis-themed bachelorette parties!  And not only do I get to go to these weddings, I got asked to be in several of them.  (Bridesmaid in 4, singing in another.)  That’s 5 weddings, friends.  How cool is that?!  I am super amazingly excited to partake in everyone’s happy moments and share in their special day, and ignoring the silent protest coming from my quickly diminishing savings account.  (Hush, savings.  You were never very impressive to begin with.)

So when I saw a trailer for the movie “Bridesmaids,” I immediately knew I would love the movie.  Kristin Wiig is phenomenal, and I’ve loved Melissa McCarthy since her days as Sookie in Gilmore Girls!  (They put her in much more flattering ensembles in GG, to say the least.)  Heather and I went to go see it this week, and I prepared myself for a good time.

As the movie went on, I found myself wondering which of the bridesmaids I would identify the most with.  What kind of bridesmaid am I going to be?  Am I the perfect little planner?  The goodie-goodie that people think is sheltered and oh-so-nerdy?  The slut who wants to escape from her normal life for a while and rock a Vegas bachelorette party?  No, in all likelihood  I figured it would probably be the maid of honor character, desperate to keep her best friend and throw her the best shower/bachelorette party she’d ever seen, secretly wondering why everyone else seemed to be pairing up but her?  (Wiig’s character.)  There were some similarities that came through in the movie, and I was thinking “wow, this movie might be about me!”

Then as the film went on, I realized that character was juuuuust a little too dramatic and self-involved.  She blamed all of her problems on other people and was more of a hot mess than I’ve ever been on my worst day.  I thought “OK, this movie isn’t about me.  I’ll just sit back and enjoy.”

Well.

Melissa McCarthy’s character, Megan, is the unattractive, chubby, clueless, crazy bridesmaid that everyone is nice to but at the same time they wonder “What the mother of crap is wrong with that girl?”  Think of the female version of Alan from “The Hangover.”  Now take away his satchel and switch it for a carpal tunnel wrist guard.  That’s “Megan”

Well, in one scene her character gets real, sits down on the couch and starts talking about her life, and how she’s super happy with the person she’s become.  She doesn’t worry about what other people think about her, and she’s generally just a content person because she does what makes her happy, and she loves her friends.  I thought “OK….that sounds like me.  Weird”  Then I thought back to a previous scene, where they showed her at work.  She worked in IT, surrounded by nerdy boys and computer screens.  Ok….yeah that’s kind of my life.  Then she dropped a bomb:  she worked for the federal government and held a security clearance.

My jaw dropped.  So, apparently I’m THAT girl.  Behold my future.

Moving madness!

Hello blog fans, remember me?   To be fair, I didn’t get internet at my new place until one week ago, so I did have a decent excuse why I haven’t been blogging.  Plus I’ve been busier than a one-armed-paper-hanger (who came up with that expression?)

So as many of you know, I FINALLY got my new place in St. Louis!  After a stressful and crazy experience with my mortgage company, and more than a billion phone calls to my Realtor, I got the shiny new keys to my very own home.

I feel the need to say that again.

MY VERY OWN HOME!

I have a washer and dryer!  I get to put holes in the walls!  I can paint if I want!  I have a zillion sheets of paper with my signature on them!  I have mortgage payments (booooooo!) For the most part, home ownership hasn’t been much different than home-rentership, but it just feels different somehow.  I feel more accomplished, more grownup than I did before.  And not the sucky, boring kind of grownup, the AWESOME kind.  The independent, I do what I want, I fend for myself, I can paint my walls neon green if I want kind of grownup!  Feels pretty fantastic.  (And no, my walls aren’t neon green…but its nice to know I have options.)

Moving into the new place was relatively uneventful, depending on who you ask.  God bless the men in my life (father, brother, brother in law) because without them I would STILL be hauling boxes up three flights up stairs.  Mother nature, that tricky bitch, decided to make it 90+ degrees outside, so all of the moving and stair climbing was exhausting to say the least.  Luckily my couch fit up the stairwell, and we didn’t even have to resort to any Ross Gellar “PIVOT” moments.  And happily I’m not fancy enough to own super fancy furniture (aka all of my stuff is particle board) so nothing was too terribly heavy either.

There was only one big project we had to undertake when I moved in, and that was hanging up a kitchen cabinet.  See, I have a small kitchen.  When I say small kitchen, I mean I have one drawer.  Go look in your kitchen right now, chances you have at least seven.  Well I have one.  So there was this big empty spot on the wall next to the window, and I asked the seller to provide me with a cabinet.  They agreed, but said they wouldn’t provide the labor, they’d just provide the actual cabinet.  Alright then, I have a fairly capable father, I’m sure he can hang up a cabinet pretty easily.

So we unbox the cabinet, and my fa-ja begins the process of trying to screw it into the wall.  He ran into one problem…he couldn’t tell if the studs were metal or wood, and his stud finder wasn’t quite finding the studs reliably.  He needs to see behind the drywall, but left his X-Ray glasses at home.  So I’m sitting at the kitchen table, visiting with my friend Heather, and all of a sudden I see my father start HACKING AT THE DRYWALL IN MY KITCHEN WITH A HAMMER.  My brand new home.  My pretty new drywall…and my father is beating the piss out of it.  I immediately whimper/scream, sink lower into my chair and then went into the fetal position, all while my mocking family points and laughs at the destruction.  Through the newly created hole in the wall he is able to find the metal studs, and he feels confident hanging the cabinet…just as long as I promise to keep my lightest items in there.  His suggestion?  Cotton balls, feathers, things like that.  Useful kitchen items like that.

So since I am not exactly a Rockefeller, I haven’t purchased that many new items for my home, with the exception of a bookshelf.  This particular bookshelf was a $30 cheapie from Target, and was very clearly labeled a “2 Man Carry” on the outside of the package.  Well I don’t have two men, so I figured I could lift the damn thing myself.  I’m fairly strong, so I was able to lug the stupid thing up a few stairs at a time, (lifting with my legs, not my back!!) and would take a break every few seconds so I wouldn’t pass out.

Well, I’ve mentioned that I live on the third floor, but somehow I had forgotten that small fact.  In the heavy-bookshelf blur, I somehow mistook the 2nd floor for the 3rd one.  I lugged the furniture over to “my door” and stuck a key in the door.  Huh, funny, the knob wouldn’t turn.  So I take the key out, check to make sure it’s the right one, and stuck the key back in.  Again, it wouldn’t turn.  I’m starting to get really confused when all of a sudden I hear “Uhhhhhh….HELLO?” from the other side of the door.

My immediate thought is “SOMEONE HAS BROKEN INTO MY APARTMENT!!” (and apparently they changed the locks?)  Then I realized it.  I didn’t see my doormat.  The number outside of the door is not right.  And oh yeah, I’M ON THE WRONG EFFING FLOOR.

I immediately squeak out an “OH! I’m sorry! Wrong apartment!” and with a massive dose of adrenaline, I hoisted that billion pound bookshelf over my shoulder and RAN up the stairs to my place.  I have avoided the 2nd floor like the plague, and haven’t run into her since.  She probably bought a security system anyway.

So that’s how I met my downstairs neighbor.  Can’t make this shit up.

Underwriter from HELL

Alright, there’s some serious  shizz going down with the condo I’m supposed to be closing on today, and rather than trying to describe this to a bazillion different people, I’d rather just do one blog post then completely ignore the subject for the rest of my life.  Much how I handle my breakups.  Ready?  Ready.

So I am in contract on a B-E-A-UTIFUL condo in St. Louis, on the north side of Forest Park.  Hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, top floor of the complex, i’m telling you this place is awesome.

I initially started my mortgage application with Commerce Bank, they’d been my bank for ages and I thought why not just keep all of my accounts in the same place?  Got all done with the paperwork, they started underwriting (checking to see if all my info was legit, making sure I didn’t have a shady past, etc) and we ran into a little snag.  Turns out Commerce Bank doesn’t really care to do FHA loans (government insured loans with as little as 3.5% down) on Condos….so I wasted a couple hundred dollars and a week’s worth of time on these losers.  You think my loan officer might have known this from the start, but you’d be wrong.

Per the suggestion of several of my friends, I decided to contact Gershman Mortgage, in O’Fallon.  These guys were great, their rates were low and my two mortgage officers were super nice and I figured this was going to be a snap.  They ran my credit, everything checked out, I put down some earnest money, and arranged for an extra several thousand to be put down as a downpayment.  We agreed to close on May 21st, and that I would move on May 22nd.  There were a few little kinks to work out but I was assured that we would close on time, no problemo.  I went ahead and arranged for my friends and family to join me in moving, I packed up ALL of my belongings, rented a moving van, arranged for my utilities to be transferred to my name, the whole nine yards.

Imagine my surprise when I get a phone call from my Realtor YESTERDAY stating that all of a sudden, the mortgage company has a problem with the property.  Whenever you take out an FHA loan on a condo, the entire condo itself has to be FHA approved, and my property has been approved since March 2009.  Well, I guess the mortgage company decided that they needed more PROOF that the condo was FHA approved.  Nevermind that FHA confirmed it verbally over the phone.  Nevermind that it shows up on the approved condo list on FHA’s government website.  Nevermind that it’s been approved for a YEAR and several other tenants have been occupying the space using FHA loans AS WELL.  They wanted an actual document that nobody can find that nobody is even sure if it exists.  Awesome.

OH, BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!!

Apparently the condo company that I’m going through also owns a parking lot on that same street that is for sale.  Well, Gershman doesn’t really like that the condo company is doing residential AND commercial business, and unless they basically say they won’t sell the parking lot as commercial space, they are uncomfortable with this application and we won’t be able to close.

So here’s a few key questions you might be wondering about:

Are these legit concerns?  According to other underwriters/loan officers we have spoken to: NO, THEY ARE BEING CRAZY!!

Is the lease up on my apartment on May 28th?  Yes, yes it is.

Is all of your stuff already packed and in boxes?  Yup, all of it.

Is it entirely possible that you will have to go with a different lender because the Gershman underwriter has LOST HIS DAMN MIND and decided to nit pick at the 11th hour?  Uh huh

Does this mean you will have to wait another 2 weeks or so to close?  Won’t you be in Hawaii on vacation?  Indeed.

So there’s my fun little reality, I hope you have a lovely weekend, because I was supposed to close on my condo in an hour and a half, and it just looks like that won’t be happening.  Instead I think I’ll have an anxiety attack.  Or possibly some Xanex and a vodka chaser.

*****UPDATE!!!*******

There is a GLIMMER of hope, I just talked to my Realtor and it is entirely possible that everything Gershman asked for might actually happen.   MAYBE.  I’ll keep you posted, so send lots and lots of happy thoughts my way!!

W.W.P.E.T?

Have I mentioned how awesome my family is lately?  I have a dad who is the hardest working man in the Fertilizer business, a mom who is pretty much my twin (just 25 years older,) a wise older sister who tries to make me a better person (with mixed results,) a goofy little sister who never fails to make me laugh/want to punch her, and super-smart little brother who is going to become a pharmacist and smuggle me pills someday (jokes!)  And I suppose I need to mention my little Lex Danger, who is getting chubbier and cuter every single day.  And her Mohawk gets a little more noticeable every day too!

Yet there is one member of my family who I have yet to mention, and that is my bro in law, Phil.  This dude is in a class all his own.  He is a slavedriver at work, a good hubby to my sister, a great daddy to Alexis, and overall he’s pretty cool.

But my favorite thing about Phil, besides his borderline narcolepsy?  He will eat ANYTHING.

It started out pretty innocently, really.  Everyone would finish their food and Phil would offer to finish their leftovers.  Or he’d make random dinners out of bits and pieces of different meals, making weirdo combinations I’d never consider.  Once he made a frikkin omelet using CHILI.  We all tried to talk him out of it, but he was convinced that it would be a mind blowing combination.  If I’m not mistaken, he hasn’t made a second one, so I guess I was right.  Boom.

After realizing Phil’s adventurous food nature, it has kind of become a little bit of a game to see what we can convince Phil to eat next.   For instance, I bought some microwaveable bacon for Mardi Gras, because I was under the impression that there was a microwave on our floor that we could use to heat it up for breakfast.  We got to the hotel and discovered that no, there was no microwave, so if we wanted to eat the bacon, we’d have to eat it at room temperature.  (It was technically pre-cooked, but you still couldn’t have paid me to eat it.)

We started wondering, “What are we gonna do with this bacon?  I mean, is anyone gonna eat it?”  Then it came to me:

Phil will totally eat it.

Sure enough, Phil and Mel show up to the hotel room and nearly immediately, we have convinced him to eat this semi-raw bacon straight from the package.  Melanie tried to talk him out of it, but the challenge was officially extended and he knew that his manhood was at stake.  The result?

Mmmmm....rubbery bacon

Since then, I wondered what other weird stuff I could make Phil eat, simply by daring him to do so.  I was at work one day, heating up a bagel for breakfast, and I decided to flip through our “Wheel of Death” vending machine.  This is no ordinary vending machine, my friends.  It doesn’t carry chips or candy bars, oh no.  It carries pre-packaged sandwiches and homemade meals from a company in St. Louis, and as a rule the stuff is usually pretty disgusting.  So here I am, flipping through the contents of the machine, minding my own business, and I see it:

A BACON AND VELVEETA SANDWICH!!

There it was, the perfect challenge.  The grossest sounding thing I could EVER think to eat from a work vending machine.  Challenge extended!!

I purchased the delicacy and brought it to Phil’s desk (which happens to be the desk connected to mine.)  He called his buddy Lance and told him to come over and check out this sammich.  Sure enough, there were two pieces of toast (kind of burned,) about 6 pieces of bacon, a THICK slice of Velveeta (classy) and a small package of Mayo.  (Ok, I can get down with a bacon and a manufactured cheese-flavored-food sandwich, but the thought of adding mayo makes me want to puke and die.)  Mayonnaaaaaaaaaaaise!! (inside joke, fools.)

Tons O' Bacon!

He scarfed the thing down, and said it was actually pretty tasty.  Then it was decided: this was going to become a weekly tradition.  Lance and I would buy Phil an item from the vending machine once a week, and Phil would be forced to eat it, whether he wanted to or not.  This week’s choice is either a Sweet Baby Ray’s/McRib imitation sandwich, a fried chicken platter (from a VENDING MACHINE), a sandwich simply labeled “The Kendall Jackson special” or the “Big Az Bubba Twin Chili Dogs.”  Should be interesting to say the very least.

And don’t worry, we already decided what next week’s challenge will be.  Mortals, rejoice!  Behold the KFC DOUBLE DOWN!!

Cheese, bacon and sauce between two pieces of fried chicken

Screw Man Vs. Food, welcome to W.W.P.E.T.  (What Will Phil Eat Today?)

I has a sad

So I had a very hard weekend, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell everyone exactly what was going on, but I figured it might be better to put it out there then have individuals asking me about it and have to explain it 100 times.

So here it goes.

My sweet Sadie is living with a new family now.   😦

I rescued Sadie in October 2007, right after I moved into St. Louis after college.  She was a horribly over-bred, abused, neglected little girl who just wanted a home to call her own.  I took her in, housetrained her, taught her to walk on a leash, how to take treats, how to sit (sometimes,) and how to be an awesome dog.

She really was the best dog that I ever could have asked for.  She didn’t bark, chew or scratch.  She wasn’t overly crazy and jump on people when they walked in the door.  When I wanted to play, she’d run around with me.  When I was sad she’d lay her head on my lap and make me feel better.  And she was the cutest damn dog I’ve ever seen.

She was the best dog ever.  Sadly, I was not the best owner.  Between working 40 hours a week, class one night a week, dance practices and performances, and a decent social life, I was finding myself being home less and less.  And god bless her, Sadie would just wait for me.  She didn’t act out, get separation anxeity, or anything.  She would just wait for me to get home.

I live in a one bedroom apartment, so she never got to run around without a leash.  I don’t have a backyard, so we’d have to settle for a side yard or walking a few blocks to the park so she could stretch her legs and run outside.  I didn’t have any other pups, so when I was gone she’d have nobody to play with, except for her precious stuffed duck.

It became clear to me that she could have a much better life with another family, so I put out an advertisement to see if anyone would be interested in taking home my sweet Sadie.  Not surprisingly, I got about 20 responses from dog-lovers that were happy to let Sadie join their family.  After screening the responses, I decided that Tracy and Larry, a wonderful couple in Missouri would be her new family.  They live in a two bedroom house with their other dog Torrie, a fellow rescue pup.  They have a fenced back yard and get this….they have a doggie door.  Sadie would have the chance to run around outside whenever she wanted!!  I decided I would go meet them and see if Sadie would be a good match with their family.

After meeting with Tracy and Larry for a few minutes, it was clear that this would be Sadie’s new home.  I handed over her precious crate, allergy-free food, medical records, and the stuffed duck that has been Sadie’s surrogate offspring since she left the puppy mill, and said goodbye to my sweet pup.

She put her paws up on my chest as I gathered her in for a big hug, and I kissed her sweet puppy face.  I told her to be good for her new family, and that I loved her.  Hot tears streamed down my face as I walked out the door, and Tracy hugged me and promised to give her a great home.

I walked to my car and glanced back at the house.  Sadie’s face was in the window by the door, staring at me, probably wondering why I was leaving here there with these strangers.  I took a deep breath, and drove away.

I know that finding Sadie a new home was the best thing for her.  And for me.  But it certainly doesn’t make things any easier.  I am so happy to have been her “person” for a few years, and to help her come out of her shell a little more each day.  She was the greatest pet anyone could have asked for, and I’ll miss her like crazy.

So there’s my sad story.  (I will try to keep future posts a little more lighthearted.)  Until then, please remember to never purchase from a pet store, and to ALWAYS adopt.  http://www.petfinder.com is a great site with hundreds of pets that are looking for their forever home.

“Facebook Week” = weak

So I’m sure that all of you are on Facebook, (my stats tell you that pretty much all of you just click on my blog from Facebook,) and I’m sure you’re aware of how it is sometimes awesome, sometimes awful.

One of my least favorite trends has been the “weeks” that my friends keep posting all over their pages.  I’m sure you’ve seen them…the bra colors, doppelganger, Valentine’s week, old baby photos, I see a new one all the time.

I had chosen not to participate in these theme weeks, until the doppelganger thing caught on.  First, let’s find out what a doppelganger really is.  Dictionary.com defines it as “a ghostly double or counterpart of a living person.”  Please tell me what part of that definition means “celebrity look-alike.”  So anyway, I saw some reeeeally great celebrity look-alikes so I sat down and thought about if anyone had ever told me I looked like a celebrity.

I guess it only happened one time, when I was about 15, and I went to Florida with my family for vacation.  My fair skin couldn’t handle the direct sunlight, and I got a killer burn on my forehead.  So, for the rest of the trip, I wore a hat.  I don’t look bad in hats, if I do say so myself, and apparently, they also make me look famous.  For lunch one day, we stopped at a nearby Arby’s, and I walked in, with my hat.  The guy behind the counter immediatly got all excited, and started asking me “ARE YOU HER?”  I asked him what the hell he was talking about, and he got all excited and said “You’re that tennis player!  You’re that tennis player, aren’t you?”  I had no idea what tennis player he was talking about, but I assured him I was not any sort of famous athlete.  He didn’t believe me when I told him I was no tennis player, and he continued to fawn on me for the rest of my lunch.  I like to pretend that he thought I was Anna Kournikova….don’t destroy my dreams.

Now I know….he thought I was Venus Williams.

You see, I couldn’t think of a single celebrity that I looked like, so I googled some sort of face-recognition software that might be able to tell me who I resembled.  So I went onto MyHeritage.com, installed the software, uploaded a picture, and it began to analyze my facial features.

Wouldn’t you know it…it picked my look-alike as Venus Williams.

...I just don't see it...

So after the whole celebrity look-alike situation was over, it appeared people had moved on to posting pictures of their significant others.  You were supposed to post a picture of you and your love, and say how long you’d been together.  So as you are probably aware, I am crippingly single, and haven’t had a Valentine in ages and ages.  (If anyone is counting, the last time I had a legit Valentine was in 2006…a whopping four years ago.

So I decided that the marrieds shouldn’t be the only ones who have some fun, therefore I posted the picture of ME and my significant other….Vodka.

At laaaaaaaaaaaaast, my love has come along!

So there you have it, my Facebook “weeks” in a nutshell.  I’ll be sure to keep you posted if any other good ones come along…just don’t ask me my bra color.

Superbowl!!

So, as it turns out, I don’t care about the Saints or the Colts one tiny bit.  I mean not even a little.  I simply watch the Superbowl for three reasons:  the commercials, the Star Spangled Banner, and the excuse to eat insane amounts of junk food in one sitting.

Tonight’s commercials, for the most part, let me down.  There were a few that I REALLY loved, however.  My favorite of all of them was the Google advertisement, titled Parisian Love.  Totally let out an “Awwwwww” by the end of that one.  Simple, to the point, and unforgettable.

My snack foods consisted of taco dip and garlic bread pizza….excellent choices all around.

Now….for the singing.  Let me start by saying I’m a huge Carrie Underwood fan.  I think she’s beautiful and insanely talented and there’s no doubt that the girl can hit a glory note like nobody else in the biz.  However, I found myself less than impressed with her Star Spangled Banner.  Don’t get me wrong, she did a WAY better job than I ever could have hoped to do, but I found myself a little underwhelmed.

Let’s first start with the outfit…sweetheart you have a amazing sense of style, so why you decided to wear a Storm Trooper/Elvis Bodysuit/Shoulder Padded abomination of an outfit it beyond me.  (Kudos for the killer platform pumps though.)  And what happened to your hair?  Were you unaware that this was televised?

The actual singing was good for the most part, minus the pitchy final note, but there just wasn’t much pizzaz to it, besides the word “wave.”  I found myself wishing for Jordin Sparks or Jennifer Hudson, who’s American Idol Alum Superbowl banners put yours to shame.  Mad props to Ms. Sparks and Ms. Hudson for singing w/ actual instruments (it’s way easier to sing it acapella!) And yes, some of you may know that Jennifer Hudson’s performance was lip-synced, but it was still her damn voice on the tape so I tend not to mind.  The National Anthem is a tricky song, which can mess with even nerves of steel.

But that’s just my opinion, I suppose!  What was your take, am I being too hard on Miss Underwood?  What was your favorite commercial?  Was anyone else getting tired of Bud Light and Doritos?

Eff you, April 15th

So you know how some people have this particular time of year where you really have to examine yourself and question where your life is headed?  For some people that’s Christmas, when you’re meeting up with families and showing up without a significant other, children, etc.  For others it’s New Years Eve, when they make over-reaching resolutions about how they are going to completely change their life around next year.

Me?  It’s tax time.

For one, it is a clear demonstration of how crappy I really am at math, following directions, calculations and percentages of any kind, etc.  But mostly, it just shows me how little I’m doing with my life!

So you start with the income section…..I made HOW MUCH last year?  Where did it all go?  Did someone steal it?  No?  Just checking.

Did you buy a new house?

Get married?

Have kids?  Adopt?

Collect on any investments?

Buy a new car?

Donate large amounts to charity?

Support political campaigns?

Go to church?

Any scholarships?

Gambling winnings?

Um.   None of the above.

Crap.

I want YOU to grow the hell up!

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

I have become Leonard Sims.

Who is that you ask?  For those die hard Lost fans out there, you’ll recognize that name as Hurley’s friend from the mental hospital.  That poor bastard sat in his chair, rocking back and forth, and muttering the numbers over and over and over again, for reasons yet unknown.

4...8...15...16...23...42

My friends, this is my future.

As most of you probably realize, Lost is starting its final season this coming Tuesday.  As a big fan of the series, I’ve been counting down the days until I FINALLY get to hear what episode “LA X” is alllll about.   (It’s LA space X, mind you.  NOT LAX.  I’m sure this will be significant.)

So I was thinking about it the other day, and I realized there was a great many detail about Lost, seasons 1-5 that I had completely forgotten about.  Adam and Eve, the hotness of Boone, and who were Paulo and Nikki again?  With two weeks to go until the season began, I made a bold statement to my coworker.

“I will finish seasons 1-5 of Lost in TWO WEEKS.”

Yes, my friends.  I am an idiot.

Now I’ve always been one of those people who can lay around for days at a time, doing little more than watching TV and movies and laying on my couch.  But man, Lost is so different.  First of all, it averages about 20 hours per season.  That’s nearly 100 full hours of outstanding television.  And it’s not just any 100 hours…it’s JAM PACKED full of information, and clues, and bombshells, and flashbacks, and yes, the occasional polar bear.

I wish I could just turn the damn TV off for a few hours, or finally catch up on the episodes of House, Grey’s Anatomy, and the like that are chilling on my DVR, waiting their turn.  But alas, if I’m home, and I’m not asleep, I’m watching frikkin Lost.  I made my bed, now I have to lay in it.  I can’t let my coworker win, let him beat me to season 5.  So it’s on like donkey kong, and I’m determined to finish before Februrary 2nd.

Until then, it’s sweet visions of sexy, southern boy Sawyer, Jack and his whiney “my daddy didn’t love me!” episodes, Sayed’s glorious curly updos, Kate’s lack of any sort of body fat, and Ben’s all-around creepser self.  I might slowly lose my mind in the process, but damn it I’m GOING to finish.

Don’t mind me.  I’ll just be here, sitting on my couch, rocking slowly back and forth, and muttering to myself.

4…….8…..15…….16…….23…….42

Oh and btw, as far as theories go, I’m gonna go ahead and make a bold statement that Vincent is Jacob.

YEAH, I said it!!